Wednesday, February 24, 2010

It's here. Wayne Thomas Batson and Christopher Hopper's book, Curse of the Spider King, now has a book trailer! My teammates from the Nightwing Tribe made it all from scratch, including the awesome score and animation sequences. Check it out! (If the video is too wide, here's the link to the YouTube page.)

Monday, February 22, 2010

If you haven't already, go here to join the Rebelution Book Bomb! Tomorrow we take on Amazon.com! Oh, and did I mention that Alex and Brett are giving away prizes to people who order 5 books, 10 books, and the largest order?

Monday, February 15, 2010

Alex and Brett Harris, the founders of the Rebelution and the authors of Do Hard Things, have written another book! Start Here is a companion to their first book, a sort of field guide to the ideas and challenges of the Rebelution movement. It will answer questions, inspire dreams, and help those dreams become realities. It's also full of stories of regular teens who rose above the everyday expectations of the world and how they started to do hard things right where they were.

And on Tuesday, February 23rd, we're going to drive it to the top of Amazon.com.

Alex and Brett have announced another book bomb. The last time they did this, teens all around the world came together and pushed Do Hard Things to #6 on Amazon. Now they think we can do better.

This isn't about selling a lot of books simply for money, praise, or fame. No, this is to get the revolutionary idea of "rebelling against low expectations" to as many people as possible. If we can get this book to the top of Amazon's bestselling list on the 23rd of February, many new people will notice it and be pulled into a life-changing message.

Friday, February 5, 2010

I finished typing out the rough draft of Bluewillow! It took me nearly as long to type it out as it did to write it by hand, but it was fun to read my novel as I typed it. And I think it was good that I did it this way, despite the extra time.

My impressions: It will need a lot more editing than I first thought. Some sections --whole chapters even-- made me wince. And I'm not sure I should go deep into editing it now, because this is the second book in a trilogy, and I haven't yet written the first book, Greenheart. When that is written, I'll probably have more things to add in and take out of Bluewillow, to make them fit together as a series in preparation for the last book, Redtail. I have lots of work ahead of me. And this is all for just one of my trilogies. *sigh* I love writing.

I appeared on a blue and misty morning under and old man’s willow tree. That’s the beginning for me, though I must have been at least eleven years old. The old man later told me that I had a fever so high that my lips were white and my eyes were black and shining riverstones. All I can remember is the fog on my skin— cold and blank.

Hands lifted me away from my tree and wrapped me in quilts, and I slept. Whispered conversations floated in and out of my mind, but I couldn’t understand them. I did not dream. Only darkness smothered me.

I woke with two cats on my legs. They stared at me. Light came in from a rectangular hole in the wall, high above me. It was a morning kind of light. One of the cats began to purr.

“So you’re awake?” The sudden voice of a man made me sit up straight, scattering the cats.

There in the doorway, silhouetted by the brilliant outdoor light, stood an old man. He leaned on a twisted staff, and a bush of hair stuck out from under his cap. Behind him crowded several curious heads, all hoping to get a glimpse of me.

I rubbed my throat.

“You thirsty?” asked the man. He swung into the room and poured water from a pitcher into a wooden mug, which he held out.

I took a sip and looked up again. “Where am I?”

The old man looked back at the others, still in the doorway. No one spoke. His eyes glowed gray in the windowlight when he looked my way again. “Begging your pardon, miss, but who are you?”

And that’s when I knew. Or rather, I didn’t know. That was the problem. My memory was as clean as the waters in the willow-pond. I set the mug on the bedpost and let my hands fall into my lap. “I can’t remember,” I said.

To my surprise, the man’s lips cracked into a wide grin, and he winked at me. “Then I get to name you!” Several people behind him murmured disapproval, but the old man shook his head. “I found her, didn’t I? I found her, and I’ll name her!” He tapped his nose a couple of times.

I winced. With all those people, strangers looking at me in silence, I felt like a freak on display. I fidgeted, wishing I could crawl out the window and disappear.

At last the old man brightened. “Audrey!” he said. “Your name is Audrey. Audrey Bluewillow!”

A chorus of aahs rippled into the room. Something about it made me uncomfortable, like being left out of a happy ending.

“Why?” I asked him. “Why… Bluewillow?”

“Found you under a willow, didn’t I? And the first part is for obvious reasons.”

Now I was nervous. “What do you mean?”

“Girl, don’t you realize…?” He frowned at me in apparent sympathy while I waited helplessly. He turned and rummaged in a drawer, muttering to himself the whole time. He pulled out a shard of smudged glass. “Look in the mirror, Audrey,” he said. I flinched.

My fingers trembled as I lifted the milky glass to my face. At first I could see nothing at all. Little by little I began to make out my features— first just shadows, then my ordinary mouth and nose, and my blue eyes. I smiled at my familiar reflection in relief and almost gave the mirror back when a late ray of morning sunlight peeked over the edge of the window and blinded me for a moment. The gasps of the onlookers made me rub my eyes and look again in the glass…

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

plot bun•nynoun
A seemingly exciting plot twist idea for your work-in-progress that takes the form of an adorable, infuriating rabbit who leads you down a winding trail that either goes on forever, and never ends anywhere; or takes you through a dark and scary forest; and sometimes ends up in a happy meadow; but most often it all ends up with you, the writer, falling into a rabbit-hole and having lots of wacky adventures in an insane world with oddly familiar people who vaguely resemble your characters.

How's that for a run-on sentence? Maybe I can get this definition into the dictionary. :)